


Quantum Suicide

by Verbyna



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Paradox, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, catch-22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verbyna/pseuds/Verbyna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loneliness is as good a totem as any other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quantum Suicide

**Author's Note:**

> Beta and title by jedusaur.

The biggest secret Eames has is that he doesn’t think of Arthur before he falls asleep.

He dreams with him sometimes, on trains and in back rooms: three guns down under for the one gun up top. He’s seen Arthur die a few times. He died by Arthur’s hand and woke up strapped to his life by a thread of cold drugs in his vein, the one that makes him look like the junkie his mother once told his aunt he’d be.

He died with Arthur, but he always woke up. No, he doesn’t think about Arthur at all before he falls asleep alone.

*

His uncle was a man who made and lost plenty of fortunes in his time. The only advice he ever gave Eames was, “Dress like the man you reckon you’ll be.”

Arthur can scowl at Eames’ getup all he wants. One day, Eames will keep one of his fortunes, the very last one, and fall back into life with his eyes closed, knowing that he doesn’t have to change a thing. Except, perhaps, his name. It’s only sensible.

There will be time to miss Arthur. Later. If he lives that long.

*

There is a post office somewhere in Portugal where Eames co-rents a box. He goes by when he can, between jobs, between faces and tics and mindless bloody hours spent in places he doesn’t care for. He slides the key in the lock and turns it, slowly.

If the box isn’t empty, he takes out his gun and shoots himself in the head. If there’s nothing in the box, he goes to have a stiff drink.

Loneliness is as good a totem as any other.

*

There are things that Eames has lost before he knew he had them. A chance at a normal life, for one. The only woman insane enough to marry him. He lost his mind quite young, but he can’t say he’s missed it.

He lost Arthur one morning in Nice. When he saw his poker chip in Arthur’s hand and the stricken look on his face, he knew he’d always wonder if he’s in Arthur’s dreams, every day, for the rest of his life. And it would be his life now, never theirs. He knew Arthur would forgive himself, but not until Eames did.

He ghosted a finger up Arthur’s chest, over his shoulder, said, “It’s alright, love, I’ll think of something.” He trailed the finger down Arthur’s arm and slid the chip from his hand, threw it on the bed. Nothing’s been safe since, but he stayed in that hotel room with Arthur for as long as he could. It was real. They didn’t sleep for days.

*

“Mr. Eames, focus.”

But what if—what if?

*

Arthur took to avoiding jobs with Eames when he realized that Eames could never put him out of his misery. He wouldn’t give him a gun, wouldn’t shoot him himself. Arthur bled out four times. He kissed Eames topside, after. Said, “I’m real, I’m here. I’m sorry.” Never said he hated Eames for watching helplessly.

If a job throws them together, they’re both professional about it. Eames has learned not to watch. Arthur learned to always, always go down with a gun in his hand and a bullet in the chamber. Or a knife, a rusty nail, in front of a speeding car. He made a breakthrough with kicks because he’s very good at what he does.

Eames doesn’t think about Arthur before he falls asleep anymore. If he was thinking about Arthur, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.

*

Before he lost Arthur, though, there was a moment when he almost gave them a chance.

They’d finished a job in Cantanhede and Eames was scribbling some notes on the corner of a newspaper next to Arthur’s botched crossword, the mark long gone back to his apartment.

“They’re naming her Phillipa. After my mother.”

Eames stopped writing and put the pen down; turned around to look at Arthur, who was watching him with a curious expression. “We should,” he told Eames, “if you want, that is—“

“Be specific, darling, I’m not a mind reader.”

Arthur didn’t even flinch this time. “We could go to California. I think you’d like them.”

*

Sometimes, the box in Portugal holds a card. It has Eames’ name on it.

Eames pulls the trigger, wakes up, and watches Arthur until the timer runs out.


End file.
